


A Year and a Day

by paulatheprokaryote



Category: The Cruel Prince, The Folk of the Air - Holly Black
Genre: F/F, F/M, Faeries - Freeform, Mixed feelings, Speculation, do we want a taryn redemption? it could go either way atm, fae, family date, gratuitous handholding, greening festival is the name of an event at my farmers market, i love heather and vivi though, lots of gentle touches bc i can't help myself, mostly cardan/jude, over use of the phrase "smile coiled like his tail", post cruel prince, power struggles, romantic death threats, shockingly little to do with the mortal world but i don't want to think up a summary rn, so theres that, will take requests for this fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulatheprokaryote/pseuds/paulatheprokaryote
Summary: “And just what would you do in the mortal world, my Queen?” he asks wickedly, a well practiced sneer barely contained.“Anything I want,” she says evasively, widening his smile further.“You could do that here,” his voice is low, tempting and she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood.





	1. Chapter 1

"A year and a day," says Cardan with a cold smirk as they share dinner in his royal rooms. Cardan is still dressed in breeches, an emerald waistcoat, and another fitted over that one, tailored to his broad shoulders and tapering at his waist. He's reclined in his seat across the small table, watching Jude with barely held amusement as she bristles. 

She now has little more than a quarter of the time that had been originally agreed upon to sort out what the hell she was going to do with Cardan. Some days he teases that perhaps he has acquired the taste for ruling and will not vacate the throne when Oak comes of age. Other days he hints that perhaps the very moment he is free he will disappear with the wild fey and never return. Once, he said he thought he’d fit in quite well with the humans and might conquer and rule the kingdom of Target that she was so fond of after a particularly long excursion there with her sisters that he hadn’t been made aware of beforehand. She didn’t have the energy to argue that Target was not a kingdom.

“Perhaps, I’ll only keep the throne until I sire some children of my own. Nicasia was just telling me the other day that she wasn’t quite set on her engagement after all,” he adds conversationally with a long sip of wine to punctuate the cruel remark. His dark eyes are flinty as he watches her face grow a shade of angry plum. He punished her day in and day out for her betrayal and she was getting quite sick of it. 

He’s pushing her intentionally and they both know it, but she’s had a shitty day negotiating the terms of acquiring a new clan of wild fey, one previously resistant to recognizing the High King, and he _just has to_ be slippery today. He couldn’t let her retire to her rooms or bathe or just breathe before he summoned her for dinner!

“If you’re set on having ugly little _goblins_ with her, so be it. Perhaps I’ll return to the mortal world instead!” she hisses angrily and they both knew it was a lie the moment the words tumble from her lips. She’d never leave when so much power was _finally_ in her grasp. The throne was as strong as it had ever been after a rocky few months and she wasn’t ready to give it all up just yet. 

He grins a toothy and dangerous sort of grin, like a predator circling cornered prey, and he scoots close to her. She breathes in his oaky, pine needle scent and is suddenly keenly aware that she smelled of sweat and exhaustion and perhaps a hint of tangy, sour blood. 

“And just what would you do in the mortal world, my Queen?” he asks wickedly, a well practiced sneer barely contained. She hated that the Court of Shadows had welcomed him so readily into their number. The Roach loved him and his fine taste in wine. At Jude's behest, the Ghost had been trying to teach him basic survival skills like how to hold a damn sword and found him, of all things, funny. The Bomb, well, she liked his rather destructive nature. 

“Anything I want,” she says evasively, widening his smile further. 

Cardan reaches out across the table, absently, and tucks a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. His finger traces the curve of her ear, and her eyes fall closed as a flutter of want pools in her stomach. 

“You could do that here,” his voice is low, tempting and she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood. It grounds her back in reality and her eyes flicker to meet his. He winks, the bastard. 

She says nothing, fuming, and reclines back in her chair in the same way he had been moments before. His crow eyes are alight with amusement, but still tinged dark with _something_. She gifts him a coy smile because even if her body betrays her, her mind knows that it's all a game with him. Every lingering touch, every attentive word. It's to manipulate and control. She was the one skilled in those things and she was not giving up her crown of power to some faerie with sharp cheekbones and a cruel sneer. She wasn't stupid. 

“Perhaps we should discuss what you really called me here for,” she says finally and he looks slightly put out. 

“My brother has been quiet,” he tells her with a frown. 

“I would think that was a good thing,” says Jude, but the moment the words leave her lips she reconsiders. 

Balekin has been nothing but arrogant and willful since he’s been imprisoned. Imprisoned was a strong word for what he was. He had private quarters that were guarded by the few guards who hadn’t sworn fealty to Madoc. Madoc, who had not been quite apologetic in his role in the slaughtering of the royal family, had struck bargain after bargain, deal after deal, with Cardan. As much as the vengeful, orphaned side of Jude wanted to see him suffer, there was the part that saw his compassion toward her. His kindness. His pride. The most overwhelming side of her, the master strategist she wanted to become, had said that he was still an asset. So she had advised that Cardan allow him to retain the role of general with strict supervision and routine interrogations. If he can not answer a question or his answer is deceptive, he will be thrown in the actual dungeons. The dungeons that Balekin should count his lucky stars his brother hadn’t locked him in when Jude had given him the choice. 

“Too quiet,” says Cardan. 

“Do you believe he is speaking with someone? The Circle of the Grackles?” she probes. Cardan is silent for several long moments, so long that she doubts he’s going to answer. 

“I believe,” he says at long last, “that we may need to rotate his guard.” 

“I’ll schedule it in the morning,” says Jude. 

“And any staff in the kitchens. Anyone that might be able to slip anything to him,” he says and Jude nods in agreement.

“I’m concerned that he is plotting something,” hums Cardan thoughtfully. He leans forward, sharp elbows framing either side of his plate, and rests his chin in his hand. He watches the busy toil of the castle grounds just out the window. 

“Like?” prods Jude. She hates how often Cardan draws out his statements, still reluctant to trust her or maybe still unused to speaking to her without blatant disdain. 

“I’m not sure. He’s seemed calculating though. He’s definitely scheming,” Cardan says with more confidence than he had before. 

“What if we sent the Ghost in with the next rotation? See what he can pick up,” she suggests. He nods slowly as if considering before nodding with more fervour. 

“I’ll go speak with him,” says Cardan. He stands up abruptly, pushing his chair back with a horrible screech. 

“Now?” asks Jude, startled, but she folds her napkin and stands up as well. 

Cardan gives her a raised eyebrow. “Do you have more you wish to discuss?” 

“No,” she says quickly. “No, I’ll just go take a bath,” she huffs, following him out the door. 

“Perhaps I’ll stop by once–” Cardan starts with a suggestive, devilish grin. 

“Absolutely not. I’ve seen your face quite enough today,” Jude sharply protests. 

“You wouldn’t have to see my face if you’d prefer,” his smile is truly impish, dark eyes tracing the rising flush of her cheeks. 

The day is too long when Jude finally sinks below the water of her bath. Her mind aches as she recounts all of the promises she’d been cornered into making, the blood that still feels caked under her fingernails, the purchases she’d like to make when she next goes to Target with her sisters, and the strain that fills her heart knowing that Taryn _still_ intends to follow through with this ridiculous engagement with Locke. At last, with damp hair and her aching head throbbing dully against her pillow, she falls asleep with half baked ideas on how to keep Cardan on the throne. 


	2. Two

She’d like to say that Cardan is being _exceptionally_ annoying as the day wore on, but he’s being as annoying as he typically is. He started the day off by trying to goad her into an argument, flipped said argument that she stupidly fell for into some kind of vague accusation about her sparring time alone with the Ghost being a guise for a secret affair, which is nothing short of ridiculous. 

When she had dismissed him, not interested in another second wasted to his cutting remarks, she’d done so with an admission of plans for the rest of the day. She had foolishly let slip that she would be spending the remainder of the day with her brother and eldest sister. She could see it in the cruel glimmer of his eyes when the thought passed his mind. True to his word, he’d been a difficult king every step of the way. He was rarely useful and every ounce of civility she’d pried from him had come at great personal cost for her. His tongue was always forked, telling half truths and spinning deceptive maybes and perhaps. He seemed to enjoy nothing more than drinking his fill and antagonizing her endlessly. 

At long last, he spent an hour following her around the palace insisting that if she had the time for such frivolous engagements as going to the movies with Vivi, Heather, and Oak, he should be allowed to come too. She was seriously considering murder, told him so, and his eyes sparkled with interest at the thought. _She hates him._

Another half hour of his nagging has followed her into her rooms as she dresses for the movies. He is lounged across her bed, sipping a golden tea that makes his lips shimmer in the dim light of her room, propped up only by an elbow as he watches her rummage through her wardrobe. The golden crown aloft his dark curls is crooked and she can’t help but think it is rather fitting for him. A crooked crown for a crooked king.

“What would you even wear?” she glares as he badgers on about dying to see the movie. Nevermind the fact that he’d gotten the name of the movie they were meant to see wrong three times in the last ten minutes alone. His face morphs to triumph that the conversation had at long last passed her flat out ignoring him. 

“I have mortal clothes,” he says indignantly after a moment. At this she couldn't help but scoff. She imagines him briefly in glittery high tops like her own, jean cut offs, perhaps paired with a billowy peasant top. Something truly atrocious. Even in her mind’s eye though, he’s still beautiful. _She hates him more._

“I do!” he insists, standing from her bed. She eyes the crumpled duvet for a long moment with an odd twang in her stomach, but then he stalks out of her room without so much as a glance back at her. She breathes a sigh of relief and moves swiftly to lock the door. She pulls on her dark wash, worn denim jeans and an old grey sweater. She tucks her hair into a slouchy, knitted hat and applies the beauty products that Vivi had helped her accumulate. When, at last, she is dressed, her door handle jiggles. She hears a hefty sigh from Cardan on the other side of the door. 

“Jude,” he says, annoyed. A shudder traces her spine like the fingertips of the wind before she can stop herself. She’ll never get used to her name on his tongue.

Her lips quirk in triumph at his annoyance though and she dallies in front of the mirror, wearing his patience as thin as the last remnants of the winter ice covering the Lake of Masks.

He raps his knuckle on the door, venom lacing his voice, “Open the door, Jude.” 

She sits on her bed, still not answering him, and laces her pair of glittery, silver Converse high tops deliberately slow.

At last, out of ways to stall, she opens the door. He’s standing there, in mortal clothes, leaning heavily against the door frame. His dark eyes flash as he watches her take in his dark denim, black henley, and soft leather shoes. She feels, if only for a moment, that she has slipped into a parallel universe where he is mortal. She blinks, several times, in stunned silence. 

“So, what time are we leaving?” he asks and the illusion is shattered. Her tongue is sparking before she has processed the words leaving her lips. 

“There’s no we,” she says with a sharp emphasis that brings his eyebrow swooping up into an arch.

“What time are you and I leaving,” he tries again and she rolls her eyes. 

“We’re not,” she says. 

“Oh, I thought you wanted to see the movie with your sister?” Cardan asks with a coy, teasing sort of tone that makes her want to punch him. 

“I do. I am. You’re not coming,” she says resolutely, crossing her arms over her chest. His eyes tracking her movements with amusement. She huffs and marches around him, not waiting to hear his retort. He follows her all the way from her rooms to the stables, babbling mindless threats about vacating the throne and hissing “a year and a day” after every other sentence. She ignores him which brings an icy malice to his tone that had been absent before. He sounds almost desperate, which was bizarre. He never sounds like that unless she has a knife under his throat or a crossbow aimed at his heart.

At the stable, her nerves are on fire and she thinks that if she murdered him here and now, it would be justified. It wouldn’t weigh on her conscience at all because he’d literally annoyed her to death. 

“FINE!” she roars and whirls to face him, expression mutinous. He nearly runs into her, not prepared at all for her sudden halt. 

“Fine, if you insist on tagging along, you’ll promise to behave. Swear to it!” she jabs a finger into his chest, thinking fondly of the knife tucked securely in her sneakers, and his lips curve victoriously. 

“I swear. I’ll behave,” he says simply. She eyes him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of deception. 

She climbs onto her dappled faerie steed, gripping tightly to its mane knotted in intricately woven braids garnished with heady blue and gold flowers. He mounts his own steed and gives her a wide, toothy smile. She frowns at him and a thought bubbles in her mind. He’s been smiling so much lately that she’d nearly forgotten what his face should look like. What that cruel sneer that once was a permanent fixture on his features should look like. Even now, his sneers lack the venom that it once had. _"I smile a lot when I'm nervous.”_

When she dismounts her steed at Heather and Vivi’s new place, she ties it to the post that they’ve added to the backyard. They’ve just moved out of Heather’s apartment when her lease was up and bought a true fixer-upper just outside of the city. It has a stream in the backyard for Oak to muddle through and enough land for him to roam wild. 

She doesn’t help Cardan leash his steed or guide him toward the house. She ignores his craning looks when he catches up to her with his long strides and his innumerable questions and rings the doorbell. 

“Come in!” hollers Vivi from somewhere in house and so she twists the door knob, pausing only to give one last glare at Cardan and quickly mutters a threat for her own peace of mind. 

“Nice place,” he decrees when he is in the kitchen, face to face with Vivi who is buttoning a squirming Oak into a parka. 

Vivi stops, surprised at Jude’s choice for company, and eyes him before shooting a questioning look at Jude. Oak tries to worm his way from her grasp, but she returns her attention to the last few buttons before brushing her hands off on her black jeans. 

“King Cardan,” she greets with a swift nod and a low voice. Prince Cardan would have had her head for not gracing him with the lowest of curtsies, but as king he’d seemed to find some distaste in every single curtsey or bow bestowed on him. 

“Ready?” asks Heather with a beaming smile, her ink smudged hands pulling on a slouchy knit hat over her faded pink hair.

“Oh, hello! Are you Jude’s boyfriend we’ve heard so much about?” she asks Cardan, reaching out a hand to shake his. His grin is so broad and insufferable when he glances at Jude that she is again thinking of her knife in her shoe and how nicely it fits under his jaw. He doesn’t agree, he can’t, he isn’t her boyfriend, but he doesn’t contest it either. Instead, he slings an arm around Jude’s shoulder and she immediately tries to wiggle from his grip. 

“Cardan,” he supplies warmly, “You must be Heather! We meet at last!” Jude glares at him and then at Vivi. Vivi shrugs. 

“No Taryn tonight?” Jude asks Vivi although she didn’t expect for Taryn to show up at all and Vivi looks guilty. 

“She had plans,” she says, a half truth if Jude had ever heard one. Vivi has been doing her best to circumvent Locke’s hold on Taryn, but she refuses to leave him. It has begun to cause friction with all three of the sisters. Taryn would hardly speak to Jude, Jude was still bitter toward her anyway, but she was pressuring Vivi to pressure Taryn to leave Locke. It was a nightmare. Madoc was right. Locke was unworthy of either of them. If only Taryn could see that as well.

“What if we just sent him off to war with Madoc? We could get rid of him easily enough,” Cardan suggests, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as they piled into Heather’s Prius. Her head tilts back on its own accord and briefly she entertains the idea. 

“She’d never forgive me for separating them. It needs to be on her own terms,” she says at last. 

He hums in response, the vibrations buzzing against her ear, but he drops the subject. Heather is blaring terrible music with crashing guitars and scratchy voices. Oak sings along though, his faerie voice melodic and mesmerizing. 

The Mall is buzzing for a weeknight. Cardan and Oak have both nearly vanished twice into the sea of human bodies, looking as Pixie-led as any poor mortal ever has. After the third near miss, Jude laces Oak’s fingers with her left hand and Cardan’s fingers with her right. Oak keeps tugging away to go chase after toys he wants or to try to weasel mortal candy from a salesman, but Cardan smoothes circles lightly on her skin, as though he didn’t mean to do it, but just can’t help it. She recognizes that she should tug her hand back and let him be swallowed up by the mortals, but she relishes the perverse thrill of the moment instead. 

Heather and Vivi take care of the tickets and supply the popcorn, candy, and soft drinks. They hand the tickets to the ticketer, who tears the tickets and hands them each a stub. Cardan holds his questionably, and Jude whispers that it’s in case he needs to use the restroom. He looks like he has even more questions, but Jude tugs him along with Oak up the stairs to their chosen seats. Heather and Vivi slide in first, followed by Oak who sandwiches himself between his sisters, and Cardan sits on the very end. He’s uncomfortably tall and is constantly shifting his legs trying to find a way to sit without knocking into the chair in front of him. Finally, Jude pulls her legs up, crossed in her seat, and Cardan stretches his legs into her space with relief. 

The ads stretch on for what seem to be an eternity, Vivi leaning across Oak to whisper jokes and comments to Jude who laughs boisterously several times and until she is shushed by the couple in front of them. 

“It’s an ad,” Jude hisses at them with an eyeroll. She catches Cardan’s smirk in the dim light and she narrows her eyes at him. 

“No, no, don’t stop on my account. Riotous Jude is my favorite Jude,” he says, crossing his arms with a pleased look. 

“Eat your popcorn,” she grumbles and his smile is there, curled like his tail when he’s anxious and he’s still watching her. Just then the couple, easily in their fifties, turn to shush Jude again. It’s Cardan, with his hard face and cruel sneer, who dismisses them.

“Either mind your own business or move,” he bites at them and the couple stare at him blankly for a long moment and she wonders if perhaps he’d just ensorcelled them, when the man began muttering in annoyance and picks up his popcorn and drink to move. Jude side eyes Cardan, impressed and annoyed that even in the mortal world he still has that sort of power over people. They’ll still treat him like the unruly princeling he is. 

“You’ve been smiling a lot lately,” she tells him and a funny look crosses his face, but the smile falters a bit. 

“So?” he asks defensively. 

“It’s a bit unnerving,” she admits and then curses herself because anythingthat he thinks might be used against her _will_ be used against her.

“I’m nervous. You know that I smile a lot when I’m nervous,” he says with a long look. She snorts outright then. 

“Nervous? About what?” she asks skeptically. 

He took a long sip of his drink, not meeting her eyes. 

“About what?” she reiterates, suspicion clenching her chest. _How many times had he said that he would betray her. He would not vacate the throne. She assumed it was a tease that wasn’t technically false because he’s stating a possibility. But instead of a tease, he might be telling her exactly what he plans on doing! His kindness in not throwing Balekin in the dungeons! She should always be suspicious of his compassion!_

He shoves greasy popcorn in his mouth and frowns at the taste. 

“This is garbage, you realize that, right? It has to be full of every kind of toxic chemical,” he says when he swallows the popcorn down. 

“That’s what makes it good. Stop being evasive. Are you plotting something?” she growls at him and she swears to herself that if he’s planning to betray her, she’ll cut his throat once and for all and be done with him. 

“Nothing like you’re thinking,” he says finally, annoyance heavy in his tone, but it was tinged with enough fear that her heart twists. 

“Cardan, I command you to tell me what you’re nervous about. Are you planning to betray me?” she insists and then when his eyes are filled with a helpless sort of rage at being commanded by a mortal, she feels a familiar tug of guilt. She remembers what it felt like to be under someone’s power. She recalls all too vividly the fear at being at the mercy of others. She would not wish it on anyone, not even Cardan, and yet she had forced it upon him. 

He grounds his jaw, but answers her, his lips twisting cruelly into a sneer. 

“No, I’m not planning to betray you,” he spat, “I wanted to make a good impression.”

“A good impression?” she repeats incredulously. Cardan gives her a sharp look and she sighs, holding her hands up. She has been rather demanding of him lately and she doesn’t want him any angrier with her than he already is. Not until she has a solid plan to keep him on the throne anyway. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs in the dark and he gives her a surprised look. His eyes are wide and darting across her face, searching for something. 

“I shouldn’t have commanded you like that,” she adds before turning to Oak and offering him some of her candy. 

Throughout the movie, she avoids meeting his gaze, although she feels it lingering on her too often to count. She can’t keep track of the plot because her thoughts return time and time again to the heavy pit in her stomach. She feels rotten every time she compels him. It eats her alive. She wonders, briefly, if he’d feel the same sort of guilt if it was him with the power over her. She doesn’t think he would, based on his actions prior to the coronation. He relished his power over her, abusing it time and time again. Still, it gnaws at her. 

“I have a proposal,” says Cardan in a low voice to Jude when they are back at Vivi and Heather’s house, sitting in the living room and watching television. The kitchen is open to the living room and the couch is close enough for Vivi and Heather to keep up a steady stream of conversation with Jude and Cardan as they cook. Heather is making pizza with premade pizza dough and is explaining to Cardan how to make personal pies. Jude smiles, remembering months ago when she'd done the same with her. Oak is dumping pieces of chocolate and marshmallows onto his dough and Vivi is frowning at him, but she says nothing. 

“Oh?” prompts Jude and Cardan looks tense, as though he is bracing himself for the question he wants to ask. 

“I’d like to spend more time with your brother,” he says quickly. Whatever Jude had anticipated him asking, this was not it. 

“What?” she says, louder than she means to. He winces slightly, but Heather and Vivi are oblivious to their conversation. 

“There are things about being raised in the High Court that Oak will not learn here. Things he should know to rule. Etiquette, customs, skills that he will need to master in order to be successful,” says Cardan. His tone is cautious, but his face is calculating. 

She feels a small thrill as her previous smile from watching Oak widens and after a moment she realizes why. He's implying that he'd stay on the throne. He's implying that he'd help Oak take the throne. After all the petty taunts and endless teases, he's never implied anything to suggest he'd be helpful in her quest beyond the year and the day he had promised. He'd never given her hope. She searches his face for deception, but can find none. He’s looking at her with an earnestness she’s never truly seen and a soft expression. 

“Yes,” she breathes and he smiles, but it’s not the cagey smile of nerves or the coy smile of caddishness she’s used to.

“Yes,” she repeats, not caring in the moment what it will cost her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I hope you liked this next chapter. Please let me know if there’s anything you’d specifically like me to write for this fandom. I’d be happy to. I’m thinking next I’ll write the fruit scene in Cardan’s POV.


	3. three

Most days, Jude finds herself looking forward to her frequent dinners at Heather and Vivi’s place. The food is always excellently mortal, she catches up on her favorite shows with Vivi, and the company is exceptional. Even Cardan is somewhat pleasant during these evenings. He and Oak seem to get on in a way that she’d never have guessed they would. They dunk each other in the creek, race each other around the woods, and she once caught sight of Oak yanking his tail and Cardan _laughing_. It was bizarre, to be honest. 

Tonight though, she found herself dreading it. Cardan is already cross with her for ‘undermining’ him during his reign of terror and their day has only just begun. The Ghost had been successful in his infiltration of the guards and located three guards who had sworn themselves to Balekin for promises of riches and power. Cardan had taken it upon himself to pry the information from their lips with endless pain and taunting threats. 

“Cardan, listen to me,” says Jude as Cardan dangles a blade in front of one of the guards with a menacing grin. Cardan ignores her. 

“Cardan, something very important has come up in the High Court and it needs your attention right now,” she tries again, trying to sound as urgent as possible. He reluctantly turns to look at her, his eyes appraising her as if trying to ferret out if she is lying or not. She is, but it causes him to grin anyway. 

He points the blade at the guard he is interrogating with a baleful smirk. 

“I’ll be back for you,” he says sinisterly and then reluctantly follows her into the hall. 

“What is it, Jude? I’m busy,” he says as soon as the door is closed behind him. 

“Listen to me, I’m more familiar with espionage and swearing loyalty to would-be kings than you are. This isn’t the right way to go about this,” she pleads and he’s already frowning in distaste, as though he was promised ripe fruit, but had been given spoiled cabbage instead. 

“I’ll make them pay for being disloyal to me. They deserve it,” he says with a sneer, hand returning to the door knob to restart his interrogation. 

“No!” she says, her hand landing on his hand on the door and closing around it. For a long moment he closes his eyes, but when he opens them, his eyes are burning like coals, his hatred alive and crackling, like a fire blazing and consuming everything in its path. 

“No,” she repeats, “I willingly stabbed a knife through my own hand for Prince Dain and I was barely in his service then. What we want is answers, not revenge. We need to know their plan in order to beat it. If these men are half as determined as I was, a bit of bloodshed won’t loosen their tongue.” 

“Then I’ll cut out their tongue entirely,” he says, but his hand has slipped from the door knob and he’s no longer holding himself as rigidly as he had been. She pulls her hand from his and places it carefully on his shoulder. 

“That’d defeat the entire purpose,” she says in exasperation and he gives her a hard look before stalking off in search of the Roach or spirits. It is never clear which since both were so often found together. 

The Ghost and the Roach have custody of the guards. Jude insists that they be locked away without contact from anyone else until she returns from Vivi’s. No conversations, no communication. She’ll be the one to interrogate them and she has a plan.

Cardan, however, was out for the blood he’d been promised and it seems like he’d be just as satisfied with her own. When she sees him again later, his tone is once again callous and he is set on being particularly vicious to her. Every word from her lips is immediately torn apart and discarded, every action criticized and rejected. So much so that even the Roach lifts his eyebrows at them. She doesn't know who he would back if she and Cardan were at odds, or even if he’d back either of them. 

“Bare your teeth at me again,” challenges Jude in a listless voice as the pair of them leave the Court of Shadows and walk to the stables together. Cardan graces her with another dark, ugly glare. 

“I’ll rip them from your gums, one by one, until you beg for mercy or choke on your own blood. Whichever comes first,” she tells him and she is gratified instantly with the familiar rage curling around him. She can nearly taste the acidic words that are aching to spew from his lips when they part, but he bites his lip and closes his mouth. She takes a sick pleasure in forcing him to hold his own tongue, too. 

Cardan does not speak to her as they ride to Vivi’s house. He doesn’t acknowledge her as he plays with Oak, still sour and brooding. He says nothing to her as they eat dinner, although he has pleasant enough small talk with everyone else. When dinner is over and she’s in the kitchen helping Heather with the dishes, Heather gives her a concerned glance before gnawing on her lower lip. After minutes of obvious deliberation, she drops the sudsy plate she was scrubbing back into the sink and turns to Jude. 

“You know, raising a kid at this age is really hard. It puts a lot of pressure on our relationship,” starts Heather with a long, uncomfortable glance into the living room. 

Vivi and Oak are sprawled across the floor as Cardan sits uncharacteristically still, arms folded across his chest. He’s still scowling. For the briefest of moments, crushing terror seizes Jude. She thinks that Heather is about to announce to her that she’s thinking of leaving Vivi or that she’s no longer willing to help with Oak or that she’s going to demand that Jude take Oak back with her. Instead, Heather gives her a small, reassuring smile. 

“When Vee and I argue, we’ve been trying this thing,” she says with a quick glance between Jude and Cardan. Jude wants to immediately tell her to mind her own business, but she holds her own tongue and raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s easy to blame each other and escalate the situation and it might even feel satisfying in a kind of rotten way, but instead of making accusations or blaming each other, we’ve been trying to express what exactly was said or done and how it made us feel,” says Heather, in a rushed, but gentle sort of tone. Jude has no idea what to say in response. Heather seems to take this as a sign to move forward though and continues.

“An example of this is that I know she’s hiding a huge secret from me,” she says and Jude can’t help the unholy snort she releases, “and I know she’s not ready to tell me, but it still hurts. Instead of making accusations or giving in to the feeling of betrayal and doubt it causes me, I tell her that when she clams up about her past it makes me feel insecure in our relationship. Now she at least gives me snippets and while I know they aren’t the full truth, at least I’m not letting my resentment fester until it becomes a big, ugly monster.” 

Jude stares at Heather a long moment and then she nods. Heather pulls her into a tight hug and Jude catches Cardan’s eyes, watching the exchange with curiosity. He raises an eyebrow at her, but there’s a tug of concern on his face that makes her heart miss a beat. It is a soft look that is rarely directed at her.

After a long moment, Jude laces her arms around Heather and squeezes her back because even though her advice really isn’t relevant to what Jude is dealing with, the idea that Heather cares enough to give it counts for something.

With only minor chaos, Vivi bathes Oak and tucks him into his bed. Jude sits on the edge of his bed, reading a stolen copy of _Alice's Adventures in Wonderland_ and _Through the Looking Glass_ to the fidgety boy. When the Queen of Hearts has announced "Off with their heads!" for the first time, Jude glances up at Oak, who has fallen fast asleep, drool seeping from his candy stained mouth. 

“That looks oddly familiar,” says Cardan in a low voice and he’s watching her with surprise. Her eyebrows crease for a moment and she thinks he should have known already that she had the book because she’d told him she had seen a paper with her name scribbled across it dozens of times months ago. Then, it occurs to her that perhaps there is more than one paper tucked away in his room at Hollow Hall. 

“Finders keepers,” she says and he gives her a blank stare. 

“Are you ready to go home?” she asks, easing herself from the bed with one last gaze at Oak’s peaceful face as his leg jerks. Even in sleep he’s constantly in motion. 

“Ready when you are,” he says, not moving from the door frame he is leaning on. She gives him a significant look and he moves out of her way. 

“I spoke to Locke yesterday,” Cardan drops casually as they are returning back to the Court of Shadows. Jude stops in her place, in the poorly lit tunnel, just before the door. She stops so abruptly that Cardan nearly crashes into her. His hands brace either side of her shoulders for a moment before he steps back. 

“And?” she prompts, trying not to sound desperate to know whatever it is he knows. 

“And,” Cardan begins and she can hear the insufferable gloating in his voice, “he asked if I’d make an announcement for him at the Greening festival.” 

She groans at this. She’d been hopeful that so long as they don’t formally announce the engagement, there was a chance that it might still be called off. 

“You’re not going to, are you?” she pleads and she knows she’s begging and she’s kicking herself for being harsh with him earlier because any bit of favor he might have awarded her would be long gone by now. 

“Of course I am. I’m their king, after all. I should want as many matches as possible so we can have as many faerie children as possible,” he reasons, and it’s solid reasoning, but she’s still furious that he has the gall to sound pleased by it.

“Ugh, bite me,” remarks Jude in annoyance at the thought of her sister bearing children for that foul, manipulative creature and she immediately realizes her mistake as Cardan’s eyes light up and a smirk curls around his lips. 

“I’d love nothing more than to sink my teeth into you,” he says, taking a step closer toward her. 

Her breath hitches and he takes another step. His hand wraps around her wrist and it feels like it’s on fire. She makes to step back, knowing full well that’d be retreating and Madoc would be disappointed, but she isn’t ready to battle with him. Her back presses against the door and she pushes her free hand to his chest to push him back or at the very least brace herself. Instead her fingers betray her and she clutches his shirt tight enough to leave the half moons of her nails carved into his chest. 

His lips ghost her own, so close that she’s certain they brush hers, and her eyes fall shut with a thrill of anticipation.

 

“Let’s interrogate our prisoners,” he says and then he’s twisting the knob behind her and the tunnel floods with light, blinding her for a moment as she stumbles backward into the Court of Shadows. The Roach is blinking at his cards and doesn't acknowledge their return besides a brief flick of his head, but the Ghost raises an eyebrow at the flush that is painting Jude's face. She can feel the blood flooding under her skin and is certain she's a deep scarlet by now. The Bomb is glancing between her and Cardan with a knowing look and a deeply satisfied smile.

_She hates him._

He sits down at the card table and makes polite conversation with the Roach, but his dark eyes are tracking her every movement. She heads to the pantry, pauses to catch her breath, and fills a tray full of cheeses and sausages. She grabs two glasses and a bottle of honey wine as well. She carries the tray to the hallway outside the four rooms that had been converted into interrogation chambers months ago, and then returns to the card table. She pulls one of the chairs from the table, dragging it shrilly across the floor until it’s directly in front of the enchanted glass of the first room. 

When she is finished and she’s schooling her face to see the prisoners, Cardan joins her. He takes his seat in front of the glass and watches the prisoner impassively. 

“Are you going to command me to save you if he tries to kill you? He could surely strangle you with those shackles if he put his mind to it,” his tone is odd when he speaks to her, but she isn’t certain what it is exactly. She studies him a moment, looking for any hint of what he’s feeling, but when his coal eyes rest on her, she shivers and turns away. 

“I think I’ll have better luck on my own. You’re just as likely to find a way to twist the idea of saving me into killing me,” she says, only half joking.

“I’m not a killer,” he says, but the far off tone sounds like the words aren’t meant for her. 

“I know,” she says and his gaze returns to her in full force, “Just pay attention to what he says and jot down everything you can.” 

She hands him paper and an ink pot before trying again to school her face.

The first prisoner that she interrogates is called Maelgan and he’s the one that Cardan had been let loose on before she’d intervened. She sits down across him at the table that he is chained to and puts her head in her hands, feigning exhaustion. She flutters her eyes closed, pretending to gather herself, before meeting his curious gaze. 

“Sorry,” she apologizes and it’s clear that he’s immediately thrown off guard, “I’ve had to deal with the King all day and you know what a terror he can be.”

She barely contains a smirk when the guard, Maelgan, agrees with her. She’d give anything to see Cardan’s furious face on the other side of the enchanted glass. 

She bites her lip when she looks him over.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t eaten all day,” she says, “Do you mind if I eat in here while we speak?” 

He gives her a long, calculating stare before shaking his head. 

“Great, one moment and then I promise we can discuss all of this,” she says and then she stands back up and exits the room. 

“What are you doing?” Cardan asks in a gravelly voice as she stands in the hall, arms crossed, and watching the guard. She ignores him. The guard is glancing around the room now, expression a muddled one, and she grins. She feels like she’s back in control again. In her element. 

Finally, she bends down and scoops the tray off the floor. She returns to the room, setting the tray between them on the table. She frowns at Maelgan’s chains, gets up, and excuses herself once more. 

Back in the hallway, she pulls the key to the chains from her pocket and gives Cardan a wry look. 

“Why are you constantly coming and going?” he asks, watching her watch the prisoner eye the food. 

“I don’t want him to think I have the authority to let him leave or he’ll resent me. He’s just another cog in the machine and that’s what I need to be too,” she explains. She returns to the room before Cardan has the opportunity to remark on her plan. 

“I’ve convinced them to let me unchain you, but I need to know you won’t hurt me or try to escape,” she says. 

The war on his face is clear, but a moment comes where he is obviously resigned to his fate and he agrees, “I will not escape or hurt you.” 

She gives him a lavish smile and undoes his bindings. He immediately rubs his wrists, burned raw from the iron, and slumps into the chair. 

“I brought enough for you if you’re hungry,” she offers. He declines at first, but when she shrugs and pours two glasses of wine, he plucks one from the table. 

“Your friends have implied heavily that you are the one responsible for their betrayal of the High Court. They have offered to testify your treason in front of the High Judge in exchange for lesser sentences,” she says and he swears loudly. 

“I curse them!” he hissed suddenly, “As they've betrayed me, may they never rest again. May terrors of the mind forever plague their dreams. May they–" 

“But they were rather evasive with the details of your treason and I have convinced King Cardan to allow you to clear the record on what really happened, if you so choose. He has very little tolerance for deception and if they have deceived him, you’ll be the one with his mercy,” she cut off his cursing, shaking slightly. 

The curse was too familiar to the one placed on her. She could hear Valerian now, his whispered voice and bloody cough as he damned her to forever be a companion of death. She can see the skin on his face growing paler as the blood no longer oxygenates it. She sees his lips turn blue and she sees herself shoving his corpse underneath her bed. 

“I will tell you everything,” he says with a feral bloodlust she has only ever seen in faeries, “I will tell you everything as long as they are executed.” 

The promise leaves her lips easily, as all three of the guards will be executed, and he keeps his word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want y’all to know that I’ve been trying to edit this all day, but everyone and their momma wanted to call me. My last phone call was over two hours long. I know I’m posting like every two days right now and I hope I can keep that up. If you find a ton of typos or errors you have my endless apologies. At some point I’ll come back and do a read through. This chapter is for a and Mnplo because y’all motivated me to post it earlier than planned. I'm only about 600 words into the next chapter so feel free to scream at me to write. I don't have any solid plans this weekend other than a cookout so I have no excuse.


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I should finish posting this story before The Wicked King comes out and I have a million more plunnies to wrangle. This chapter goes out to crownofroses who reminded me to not abandon shit. <3 Thanks for the comment.

The Greening Festival is exhausting. Jude never much cared for parties when she was able to slip out with Taryn and hide away until it was at long last time to leave, but having to partake in the festivities is infinitely worse. For once, she didn’t envy the faeries who had never been able to enjoy the sidelines of the tedious event. 

Cardan insists that she must sit beside him in the vast throne room, greeting guests in their finest pageantry and listening to the fluttering compliments that are being lavished on both of them. He seems to take her humiliation like he takes his favorite wines from his family’s cellar, drinking every last drop and frivolously relishing every bit of it. She is treated as if she was the king’s favorite consort, a thought that made her want to rip his throat out when he graced her with his knowing smirk every few minutes. 

The single satisfaction of the evening came when Cardan was leaned toward her, whispering uncharitable offhand remarks about a squat, green-skinned goblin in an unreasonably long ball gown. He was so busy whispering to her that he’d missed the three separate attempts by Nicasia and her fiance, a prince in his own right, to greet him. She didn’t think that he had ignored her on purpose, but with Cardan it was never clear. 

Still, the vindictive side of her was pleased. There was a treacherous bit of her that wanted to prove that she stole Cardan away from the ‘magnificence’ of Nicasia, but that was neither true nor fair. Another bit of her counseled kindness, because though Nicasia was abominably cruel, she did try to warn her about Locke at least. That small bit of kindness was nearly redeeming. 

The pageantry is grand and though she has seen it so many times before, she still can't tear her eyes from all the faeries and their beauty. She greeted beautiful court after beautiful court, each taking a vague interest in her, before they greeted the king, who was throwing back acorns of spiced wine as if his immortal life depended on it. 

For the briefest moment she sees a tiny faerie girl, with massive white hair, twirling with a knife and she smiles. The Bomb is on very strict orders tonight and damage is to be minimal. As long as both Jude and Cardan are sleeping in the palace, they’d prefer as little construction noise as possible. 

Cardan stops gulping down his glass of wine long enough to click his tongue at Jude when he catches her craning her neck to see Taryn and Locke arrive with the rest of her family. It wasn’t Locke she was looking for, but her sister. She wanted to beg her not to announce the engagement. To call the whole thing off. Madoc is handing their steeds over to grooms and Oriana is remarkably subdued without Oak to attend to. Locke helps Taryn down from the steed, but his hungry fox eyes are roaming toward the court. 

Outside of her relationship with her family, which was rocky at best, things had been good. Everything was going better than expected. Cardan was nowhere near the terror she’d anticipated on the throne, Oak adored him and took to his every lesson, and Vivi and Heather had them over for dinner regularly. All of their negotiations, though difficult, were coming along. It was the what she had hoped for. 

“I just–” she starts to defend herself, but one look at his stupid, crow-black eyes shining with malice and wine, and she bites her tongue. “You wouldn’t understand.” 

“I understand just fine. She’s your double. Or perhaps your other half. We never did decide, did we?” he muses and she ignores him. 

“We are finished receiving guests,” announces Cardan as he stands from his throne, “Come, Jude, let us partake in the festivities.” 

With a vicious smile, he holds out a ringed hand for her to take and she has no choice. He tucks her hand into his arm and escorts her down the corridor to the throng. The insult to Madoc and the rest of her family does not go unnoticed by anyone, least of all her, but she takes the thimble of honey wine he offers her at the first banquet table they pass and downs it. Her head buzzes and Cardan's gaze is burning into her. She has no idea what he sees or what he's even looking for, but he hands her another thimble. She decides to sip that one, not wanting to lose her wit when she had a long night of politics to play with a man who would happily burn his kingdom down just to watch her squirm.

The evening was drawing to a close and most of the prominent families in Faerie had long since retired and those few that remained were either blitzed on faerie wine or subdued by dancing into exhaustion. Madoc was speaking quietly with Roiben as Locke and Taryn sat in a tense silence at the table. Locke’s eyes locked on hers and his lips quirked up with a newfound interest. She feels the familiar pulse of rage rising through her and she thinks not for the first time of ridding the family of Locke once and for all. Her sister would hate her, but perhaps then she’d find a chance at finding real happiness elsewhere. 

Cardan stands and raises his glass. 

“I have an announcement to make,” Cardan said, his voice ringing with authority and he gave Jude a crooked grin. Jude glanced around the hall. She had thought he had forgotten to announce the engagement. Instead, he’d further added insult to Locke and Taryn by waiting until the only remaining Folk were those well faded into spirits who wouldn’t care at all. 

“I’d like to make a toast to the engagement of our dear friends Locke and Taryn. Please join us in congratulating the happy couple,” he raises his glass once more in salute before returning his attention to Jude, making idle conversation about an outing with Vivi and Heather they had planned the following weekend.

The conversation was a welcomed change in topic from the interrogation they sat through only the previous day. They’d learned too much to sort through and needed to arrange a meeting in the Court of Shadows first thing in the morning. She was tired of searching for spies, exhausted from scanning the faces of every political opponent and ally they have for any signs of deception. She’d find them, she knew, but someone close to them must be involved. Someone who could slip in and out of the palace with little notice during major events. 

She chattered along numbly, watching her sister fume from the corner of her eye. Locke was staring at them both with an unreadable expression and Madoc sipped his wine with a small smile. 

“I’m beginning to have a headache,” complained Jude, preparing Cardan for her inevitable departure. She’d had enough of her family and politics and festivals for one evening. 

His eyes, dark as coal, flash across her face, before he stood once more, and rang his glass. Those sober enough to hear him turned their attention. 

“We are departing for the evening. Remain and feast to your heart’s content,” he said before proffering a hand and pulling her up. 

“I don’t need you escorting me,” she grumbled, but his hand remained in hers as he escorted her back to her quarters. 

“I know you don’t need me to. It’s for my own peace of mind. Then I don’t have to stay up all night worrying about who might have tried to assassinate you on your way to bed,” he told her. She rolled her eyes, but gripped his hand all the same. 

“No one will try to assassinate me and live to tell the tale,” she told him. 

“I have the Ghost running an errand tonight so I’d like to ensure it.” 

“What would you even do? Sneer at them to death?” she said, thinking of his abysmal training with the Ghost and wondering what errand he was running. She knew Cardan liked to withhold information if he could, mostly to annoy her, but she was cautious to choose her battles with him. The smallest thing could set him off into another fit of threats on vacating the throne. She’d like to him complacent if at all possible. 

“Would that amuse you?” he said, giving her a mischievous grin as they arrived at her quarters. 

“Endlessly.” 

“I can think of a few other ways to amuse you,” he told her as she twisted the door knob to her room. She watched as his heavy gaze settled on her bed and a blush crept up her cheeks. 

“Good night,” she told him firmly. 

“Well, it could have been,” he said solemnly as the door closed.


End file.
